Hogwarts Reformative School
by NotMyselfYouSee
Summary: Harry Potter, the most feared boy of the Twentieth Century, has just begun his fifth year at Hogwarts Reformative School. With new professors, and mischievous antics of his classmates, what will happen to him?
1. Prologue

_Hello, and thank you for stopping by! My name is Carolynn, and I'll be your fic writer for this little story._

_Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling._

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><p>The air was cool, a light breeze travelling the street. A group of small children ran towards him, their cloaks fluttering in the wind. Their faces were alight with laughter, cheeks rosy and eyes shining. He smiled as they sprinted past him, jumping into the waiting arms of their parents. Tom Riddle nodded to the tall man whose legs were restrained by a small child grasping them tightly. The man patted the child's head before nodding back to the cloaked man.<p>

Tom's left arm twitched, a sharp pain shooting briefly up to his shoulder – a sure sign his fellow helpers would be here soon. Except he didn't need their help – he was capable enough to complete this on his own.

With renewed confidence, Tom Riddle strolled down the quaint path that led to the front door. He didn't bother knocking – that would only give the Potters more time. Pointing his wand towards the lock, he muttered an incantation, and small smile covering his lips as the door swung open.

He stepped over the threshold, he steps silent. Tom heard a flurry of movement in the room branching off the hallway. A door burst open to reveal Lily and James Potter, their wands at the ready. The arms hovered at the sight of Tom in the hallway, but remained where they were. Confusion covered their faces.

"I'm sorry," was all Tom said, before drawing his own wand.

Their faces dropped, the expressions becoming cold and hard. The truth hit them when Tom threw a bodybind jinx at them. Lily deflected it with a wave of her wand, while James retaliated with the Killing Curse.

Tom jumped out of the way, missing the jet of green light by inches.

He realised his mistake almost instantly. He should have waited for his friends, his back up.

The fight commenced, with two wands against one. Only with his superior reflexes and power did Tom manage to stay alive.

And then he began to get angry.

Who did these people think they were? Disrupting the peace, and torturing innocent people? And they had even brought a child into this world!

Enraged at what they had done, Tom let lose a howl of pure anger.

His wand acted along with him, letting lose a jet of red light that blinded Tom and filled his enter world. Tom's voice died, leaving silence in the hallway.

His eyes adjusted revealing the couple lying on the floor. Stumbling over to them, he gripped their arms feeling for a pulse. He found none. Only a few short minutes ago, they had lived, breathed. Now, because of him, they didn't. He was only supposed to bind them – not kill.

Tom had fallen to his knees. The guilt was eating him. What would his fellows say to him? They would hate him for committing this sin.

Tom looked up when he heard a scuffling noise outside the hallway. A small head poked through the doorway, an inquisitive look on his face. The boy had piercing green eyes, almost identical to Lily's. However, these ones were not filled with hate, only childish ignorance and curiosity.

Seeing his parents on the floor, he giggled and made his way over to them, thinking they were there to play.

As soon as he touched the cooling face of his father, he froze. Tom wondered whether he could sense that something was wrong. The toddler sat back on his bottom, his eyes filling with tears.

Tom's heart broke. He had just _murdered _this boy's parents.

Guilt and compassion ran through his veins, enticing him to pick the boy up. As Tom moved his arms closer to the boy – one hand stretched out to pat his forehead – the man saw the boy's eyes snap to his own and turn dark. His reflexes dulled by the onslaught of guilt, Tom saw this only when it was too late. Tom's fingers met the smooth skin of Harry's forehead, and the man's world burst into pain.

It was like every fibre of his being was ripped apart and trampled by a million rampaging centaurs. He was being boiled in the hottest of potions. He hurt, and screamed and swore until he couldn't anymore. The pain still wracked his body even when unconsciousness had come. His body jerked and twitched before he gave a shuddering gasp, and he become still.

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><p>His comrades found him ten minutes later. He was breathing, but there was no further evidence of life.<p>

They took him and the boy to their complex. Tom Riddle did not wake. It was almost as if he had been kissed by a dementor. No one knew what to do with him. What could they do with their colleague and friend?

They left the boy with his last remaining relatives – the Durselys. The boy had slept comfortably in the small basket they had placed him in that lay upon the front step. A small latter covered his body – a letter that explained who and what he was, and where his future would take it.

The letter did not cover the lightning bolt shaped scar that marked his forehead.

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><p><em>The first chapter should be up very soon. I do hope you enjoyed it.<em>

_If you're a tad confused, things should be cleared up soon._


	2. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone! Just so you know, I plan on updating this every Tuesday (where I live). I may fall behind a bit, as my school exams are coming up, and I'm trying to study hard and write at the same time._

_I hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling._

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><p>Harry Potter snorted at the terrified expressions that covered the first year's faces. They looked so small, innocent and terrified. Hogwarts would soon change that.<p>

Harry refused to accept the fact, that when he first came to Hogwarts – saw it's majestic towers and turrets – he probably looked spellbound too. Although, when he entered the castle, the other students looked on at him in fear and even a little bit of adoration. They'd heard the stories. Their whispers had followed him around for the first few weeks – his notorious fame making him the topic of gossip. The other students had learnt their lessons when Harry had slammed a sixth year twice his size against a wall with only a flick of his wand. The boy broke two of his vertebrae; Harry got a detention  
>Everyone steered clear of him after that.<br>"Ravenclaw!" The withered old hat shouted and Martin, Elliot ran off to join the table next to his own. Harry sneered at the blond boy, the sound of the hat's cry plunging him back into memories of his own Sorting.  
><em>"You'd do well in Slytherin. The brains, the speed, the ruthlessness – it's<em>_  
><em>_all here inside your head."__  
><em>_Harry, told by a small redheaded boy, thought Slytherin was the 'worst'__  
><em>_house. He had gripped the either side of the stool, his eyes clenched__  
><em>_shut, telling the hat "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin."__  
><em>_"You sure then, eh? Better be Gryffindor!"__  
><em>_The long row containing Gryffindor students burst to their feet, clapping__  
><em>_and screaming for the dangerous boy who walked down the steps and sat at__  
><em>_their table.__  
><em>_Harry had grinned at his new house mates, not noticing their gleaming__  
><em>_looks of envy and awe._

Those looks had never really disappeared over the years.

Harry grinned at Ron when he heard the redhead's stomach grumbling. No matter how much Ron had grown over the five year Harry had known him, his appetite had never shrunk. If anything, it had gotten larger. Hermione shook her head at Ron's moaning and turned her eyes to the teacher's table. Harry followed her gaze to find Professor Dumbledore stepping up to the pedestal, marking the end of the Sorting. The headmaster raised his hands, palms out, and the hall fell silent.

"Here comes the annual speech," Ron whispered, rolling his eyes.

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the wizened old man.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts." The elderly man smiled down at them.

"I sincerely hope you all had a spectacular holiday – and that not too much trouble was caused."

Students tried to cover up their smirks.

Dumbledore grinned knowingly. "Now, I expect you're all hungry, so let the feast begin!"

Ron sighed in happiness as mountains of food appeared onto the plates. Hermione rolled her eyes at the expression of pure bliss on his face.

"Honestly, you'd think his whole world revolves around food," she sniffed.

"Not his whole world, girls are in there too," Harry commented.

Ron just shrugged, not paying much attention to the pair of them, concentrating only on his food.

"So, Harry, how was your holiday?" Neville asked politely, grabbing a pot of gravy at the same time.

Harry instantly remembered the nightmares, the dementors, and the Order of the Phoenix. He remembered all the times he revisited the graveyard, the terrifying face of Tom Riddle staring into his eyes.

Those eyes wouldn't leave his vision. They were always there, imprinted in the back of his mind. Thin, outlined in red, soulless. There was nothing but pain in those eyes.

"It was fine," Harry muttered, pushing potatoes around his plate.

Neville prattled on about how his grandmother had duelled with a waiter because she thought he tampered with her food, but Harry wasn't listening.

He was back a few hours ago, saying goodbye to a large shaggy dog.

"_I'll miss you Sirius… Write to me, won't you?"_

_The dog's tail dropped, and he began nudging Harry's neck._

"_Sorry I can't stay. You know I would. Just me and you causing trouble." Harry raised an eyebrow, "We'd take Europe by storm."_

_The dog threw back its head like it was laughing, before trotting back to the group of people that were the main part of the Order._

_Harry waved, a sad wave, but then he turned away and the façade was back in place._

Harry shook his head, snapping himself back to the present.

While he had been thinking, the dinner had been cleared away, replaced by magnificent plates piled with every desert imaginable.

"For those new students, welcome to Hogwarts, and to those old hands, welcome back! I hope you look forward to another great year at Hogwarts. This school has a majestic history of turning wayward pupils around, so they become full functioning members of society. At Hogwarts we have a very high standard of practise, and to enforce that, we welcome our new member of staff, Professor Umbridge."

Hermione looked scandalised at Dumbledore's speech and the appearance of Umbridge as she stood up. Many other students were as well, but for different reasons then Hermione.

"Nice cardigan!" someone from the Slytherin table called out, earning sniggers from around the hall.

Dumbledore silenced them with a wave of his hand. He continued the normal warnings about the school – the forest was forbidden, as were any joke products and magic in the corridors. Rules that no one followed, much to Mr. Filch's chagrin.

The feast was wrapped up with a few parting words – "I hope you're all looking forward to a wonderful year!" – followed by a smile and a wave of the hand.

Students everywhere stood, their movements sluggish from the amount of food ingested. Purplish bags were already appearing under the eyes of the younger students. They were quickly herded off by the prefects – students considered changed, or 'better'.

Harry, Ron and Hermione hung back, ignoring the wide eyed glances that were being thrown this way.

"Guess you're going to have to teach them not to stare this year too, Harry," Ron observed after glaring at a particularly rude first year.

"What's she doing here?" Harry muttered to Hermione, gesturing inconspicuously to Umbridge, all the while ignoring Ron's comment

Hermione's eyes were narrowed, and she was looking suspiciously at the old lady who was still in her seat.

"Notice how Dumbledore didn't say anything like his usual speech?"

Harry nodded, smiling slightly at the past Start-of-term feasts he had attended. Professor Dumbledore would always end with a cheery call of "You're here because you've been deemed 'bad', but you might as well have some fun here!" Often this was accompanied by the various house ghosts jumping up through the tables.

"He didn't mention anything like he usually does," Hermione whispered, anxious about being overheard.

Ron moved closer trying to catch what was being said.

"Only one things has really changed since last year, _her."_

Harry nodded slowly, while Ron leaned back, displeased.

"Don't worry, she won't last long," he said after a moment of thought, finality in his voice.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione questioning, quirking an eyebrow.

The redhead snorted, "Look at that cardigan. Do you really think everyone's going to put up with that?"

The trio settled down in their three favourite sofas near the fires. They talked aimlessly about the holidays, and seriously about Umbridge and what she might be doing. Their eyes began dropping as they watch Fred and George burn a pattern of a lion in the carpet for the fifth time.

"Time for bed?" Hermione commented wryly, as the two boys yawned. "We've got to be ready for classes tomorrow!"

Harry and Ron groaned, already missing the summer holidays.

Hermione and the two boys parted ways at the base of the stairs. Climbing up to their dormitories, Harry and Ron moved slowly, the great amount of food in their bodies proving a nuisance.

They changed silently into their pyjamas, trying not to wake the other already sleeping boys.

Slipping into bed, Ron moaned slightly, the soft, warm bed already providing extreme comfort.

Harry grinned into the darkness.

"Save it for later, Ron," he whispered sharply.

He heard a light chuckle, "Oh, don't worry, I will. The ladies won't know what hit 'em."

Harry resisted the urge to snort.

"Sure… Night Ron," he said in a light tone.

"Harry…" Ron's voice sounded tentatively throughout the room. "Just, be careful of what you think about."

Harry heard the double meaning in his voice.

"Yeah. Night."

Ron mumbled from across the room, and suddenly there was silence.

Harry had to make sure that he didn't repeat what had happened in the holidays. He couldn't be waking up in the middle of the night screaming that a wizarding hero was alive once again. Even though he had technically never been dead in the first place.

Harry tried to fill his mind with good thoughts – his godfather Sirius; him, Ron and Hermione breaking into Honeydukes; himself holding the Quidditch cup aloft.

Harry was overloaded with rich food, lying in a comfortable bed – sleep came quickly.

"_Harry Potter. My, it has been a while, hasn't it? Fourteen years or so, correct?"_

_The bar against his throat was tight, constricting his airflow._

"_I don't quite understand what happened that day. One moment, I was flooded with guilt, the next, with pain. Do you know what happened, Mr. Potter?"_

_Harry let lose a roar. He couldn't stand being constrained, kept prisoner._

"_Of course you don't, you were just a baby. Yet somehow you managed to rip my being apart. How is that possible Mr. Potter?"_

_The man's face was close to his. So close, Harry could feel his breath, could count every eyelash, every speck of dirt._

_The man turned from Harry's withering gaze. _

"_And my faithful friends have returned me to my former glory."_

_A muttered cheer spread around the circle of hooded beings._

"_But what to do now? That is the question."_

_Harry struggled, powerless without his wand. _

"_Sadly, the ministry would consider me and abom-"_

"Harry! Wake up!"

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><p><em>I'd love you to pieces if you reviewed :)<em>

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_Thank you!_


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